


Exhibit

by xtricks



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Exhibitionism, Kink, M/M, Other, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks





	Exhibit

There were a lot of people in leather straps. And latex paint. And glitter. So, Ianto had to admit that he was grateful to Jack for insisting he wear a pair of jeans and a simple dark shirt tonight. He didn't exactly fit in to the general nudity and studded leather look - he'd had to pay an admission, unlike the couple in crimson patent leather corsets who'd been ahead of him in the entryway - but he didn't stand out like an accountant either. Jack in his military greatcoat got in for free as well, evidently the military look qualified as fetish garb. Jack qualified as a fetish no matter what he wore, really, though.

The smell inside made Ianto wrinkle his nose; sweaty warmth with an undertone of musk and sex going on in dark corners. Except the sex wasn't going on in dark corners. Ianto glanced at one dark corner where some number of disheveled people were mutually masturbating and amended his thought. The sex wasn't going on _just_ in dark corners.

It was going on everywhere.

Glitter balls cast multi-colored light all over the crowd; some glinted with steel in unexpected places, or soaked up the light with black leather or gleamed patent shiny. The fucking machines in one corner reminded Ianto unappealingly of dental exam chairs (now with added vibrators) and an oversized TV screen against the far wall cycled through images of the dance floor, a nook that seemed dedicated to public masturbation and a set of pornographic images in blue and green and red. A DJ in a silver lamae jumpsuit spun thumping music for the dancers crowding the floor of the old meeting hall.

"This is Cardiff," Ianto said, disbelieving. "This is _Wales._ How do you find these places?"

"I've got talents," Jack flashed a grin back over his shoulder, sparkles of light dancing over his hair and the brass buttons of his coat. He'd already fended off a man who wanted to lick his boots clean and two women who wanted to try him out on one of the fucking machines. Ianto had heard the hesitation in his voice before he'd refused them.

"And Cardiff's got more than castles and weevils for entertainment," Jack came back to take Ianto's hand and tug him further into the light and dark, the noise and smell of it all. Ianto followed, hesitatingly, struggling for equilibrium as his stomach tensed with a mix of embarrassment, nerves and a thread of underlying ... _want_ he didn't think about too closely. The things Jack did - Ianto wondered sometimes where his limits were regarding Jack, and not just about sex. He hadn't found them yet.

The crowd ebbed and flowed around them; Ianto found himself tempted by the little, quiet room off to one side that was mostly dedicated to massage and naked cuddling. Considering the other offerings, naked cuddling with strangers seemed suddenly quite attractive. 

"Jack," Ianto leaned in and realized Jack was practically buzzing with energy and eagerness, which answered his question before he'd even asked it. "Why are we here?"

Jack looked over at him, slipping an arm around his waist to tug him towards the dance floor. "Browsing, Ianto," he said warmly against his neck. "Window shopping. Maybe there's something here you never thought of but now that you know ...."

"You're bored," Ianto said flatly, stiffening against the jostle of moving bodies and the dancers' rhythm tugging at his nerves like the anticipation of sex (he couldn't stop thinking about sex, it was everywhere he looked), then wiggling abruptly as someone groped him. Hopefully Jack. 

It made perfect sense. Jack with his stories; hundreds of men and women and combinations of both, sex with felines (sentient, he promised), sex with tentacles. Sex with _timeships._ Sex with pain, with drugs, in zero-gee, in space - things Ianto couldn't imagine, things Jack would try and describe then trail off, eyes dark and luminous. Ianto wasn't yet thirty, a child of the 'quaint' twentieth century. How could Jack _not_ be bored with him in bed?

_"No,"_ Jack turned on him, cupping Ianto's face in his warm hands and sighed in clear exasperation. "I am not bored. I am not bored with you," each sentence punctuated by an increasingly demanding kiss. "I am turned on _here_ with _you._ " He growled the last into Ianto's mouth, his eyes dark and eager.

Ianto flushed with the attention, the awareness of looks around them but pressed back in answer, kissing Jack - kissing Jack again with sudden open-mouthed hunger - as the time and place worked him up, leaving him panting and breathless. "Browsing?" he breathed, sliding his hands under Jack's coat to cup his arse, "for what?"

Jack swayed to him, smiling. "Whatever looks fun."

_Fun_ wasn't the first thing Ianto thought of here but as Jack went supple and smooth against him and he let himself relax enough to dance - how often did they get to dance, with no second looks? - fun might not be so far off. Jack could breath kisses into Ianto's hair (maybe he wasn't bored after all) as they danced and laugh, warm and rich, when Ianto tucked his hands around the flexing curves of his arse to grind to the music and they were rather ... staid in comparison to some of the others on the floor.

There was something freeing about seeing people doing the sorts of things he and Jack got up to, here, in a crowd of unjudgemental eyes. Ianto felt something small and mean let go inside, a disapproving voice (the one that imagined no one else would suck a man's cock in a filthy alley) stuttered to silence. It was difficult to believe he was the _only_ filthy pervert in the world, or even Cardiff, when he glanced over to see a couple against one wall, the woman on her knees while her partner carded his hands through her hair and called her his _beautiful bitch_ , voice rough with affection and lust.

A cry of pain caught Ianto's attention while he was resting against a wall as Jack went to get them something to drink. When the sound was repeated, and joined by a fleshy ripe noise, Ianto was drawn to it, hot, aching and fascinated. He had to see this.

Off in an adjoining room, doors flung wide, a dungeon had been set up - complete with _play rules_ prominently displayed on the doorframe. The cuffs dangling from the ceiling didn't interest him (Jack seemed consistently off bondage lately) but the man bent over a padded horse, trousers at his knees did. The pained cries were already dissolving into hoarser, deeper sounds as the woman beside him spanked his upturned arse. Sweat gleamed on her bare arms and her face was flushed with effort and concentration while her hand rained down steady hard blows that made the air crack and sing. The bare skin of the man's arse was red and shuddering as he gasped and writhed under her hand. Ianto's pulse jumped in shocking response and he clenched his fists, shuddering at the sight and sound. It had not been quite a week since he'd been over Jack's lap, bare arsed, crying and wailing like a child. Jack had been relentless ... _good, good,_ the words driven home by the blazing strike of Jack's hand, he'd been _Jack's good boy,_ until he come all over Jack's trousers in a rush of shame and blinding release that hadn't been childish at all. Seeing it now; someone else's heat and release - the man was crying now and Ianto knew what it _felt_ like, this is what he'd _looked_ like and watching it made him want it again, greedy to be driven to such abandoned heights.

Ianto turned away from the sight feeling drunk on memory and temptation; he stumbled face first into a pair of nipple clamps on a man wearing nothing else besides those and a utili-kilt. Stammering an apology, he fought to breathe the suddenly hot air and pressed a hand to the ache of his cock. A low laugh drew his attention back to the stranger, who was holding out a small brown envelope.

"Gorgeous military fetishist told me to give this to you," he said, offering it, looking Ianto over with obvious appreciation. "Would you like a hand - or a mouth - with that? 'Cause I'd be happy to serve."

"Uh, no thank you," Ianto said, hitching a little laugh at himself at his own politeness even as he scanned the crowd for Jack. Predictably, he was no where in sight. Ianto, with the sound of the spanking still going on behind him, wanted him to hand. Or, more importantly, to cock. Jack had brought them here and Ianto was quite willing to take advantage of one of the dark corners or well lit walls. With that voice the back of his head silent for now, Ianto felt alive with opportunity. He could get on his knees for Jack, here, and imagined it with a dark rush of realization; the bodies, the eyes, to be _seen_ with Jack. Ianto wanted that fiercely even as he flushed with embarrassment. He tore open the envelope with shaking fingers.

A door key on a featureless red plastic tag slid out. "Fuck," Ianto muttered. Jack wanted to play hide and seek at exactly the wrong time.

Ianto learned surprising things about what people thought was erotic, over the next half-hour, as he searched for Jack in hallways and massage rooms, near the fucking chairs (which remained mostly unoccupied), even down in the basement kitchen, full of potluck dishes, which looked more like a bake sale than a place kinky perverts hung out. Back up at the dance floor, Ianto surveyed the room, turning the key over in his hand. So far it had not fit three back doors, seven closets and three bathrooms.

It was the color that caught his attention at first. He'd been fingering the red tag so when the bit TV screen flashed that color, he looked up. The image on the screen was a bit fuzzy, registering as CCTV to his practiced eye. At first the it was nothing but a confusion of smooth curves before Ianto recognized an expanse of red-lit skin; the sleek shifting lines of a man's back, strong thighs ... and wherever they'd gotten this porn clip the man in it was certainly more attractive than the other examples had been. When the man turned over, head still mostly off camera, and stroked a hand down his flat belly, Ianto's mouth went dry with sudden recognition. _Jack._

He was spread out on the rucked up folds of what Ianto guessed had to be his greatcoat and as he opened his legs to the camera, his foreshortened smile invited everyone in the _whole damn club_. The image cycled away to the dance floor again and Ianto's hand closed on the door key until the metal bit painfully into his fingers. 

He found what he was looking for off to the side of the sound system; broad splashes of green, blue and red light made Ianto shoulder his way through the crowd around the music table. It turned out that what he'd initially thought were pre-recorded porn clips, colorized, were actually tiny rooms, hardly bigger than closets with cameras strategically placed inside. Each had a wide window looking in from the main room and each was illuminated by colored party lights. Ianto passed the blue and green rooms with little more than a glance; two women were making out in a professional sort of way under vivid green lights and an elderly man masturbating alone in the blue one. The red room was at the end, where a tight, excited little crowd had already gathered. Ianto gripped his key tightly and shouldered his way into it.

Jack was on the other side of the glass, skin ruddy under the red lights, sprawled naked on his greatcoat, looking out from his little room with dark eyes. Under the colored lights he looked breathtakingly _different._ His hair as black and wild, the flash of his teeth predatory, the angle of his hips and the sleek curves of his chest highlighted red while the shadows between his legs were black. He was propped on one elbow, licking his mouth wet and shiny as he lazily palmed his half-hard cock. When he slid his hand up his belly and chest, Ianto watched the way Jack roughly twisted his nipples between his fingers and realized in a hot rush that Jack would like the bite of clamps on them.

"Think he needs some help with that?" a girl at Ianto's shoulder giggled to her friend. "Sure looks like it's more than handful to me!" 

The girls leaned together, stiletto heels and shiny hair, short skirts and long stockings with bows at the top. Ianto knew that if they found their way inside Jack's little retreat, he'd ... _welcome_ them right on in. Ianto stiffly shouldered his way past the girls with one more hot glance at Jack who was currently playing with his balls, head back, hard nipples casting dark shadows across his bare chest. There was a narrow door next to the window. Ianto fumbled the key to the lock, palms sweating, and groaned under his breath as it grated - the tremor shot straight to his cock - then caught and the door cracked open. Slipping inside, Ianto shut it and leaned back, fumbling to make sure the cheap button lock was engaged, attention already mostly on Jack who lay watching him a few feet away. He cock twitched, pressed tight to his trousers and Ianto dropped a hand down to press his thumb along the plump bulge.

"Jack," Ianto said hoarsely, somewhere between annoyed and breathlessly aroused. Form this side, it was clear that the window overlooking the room was a one way mirror. All Ianto could see was bare walls and Jack's reflection; who watched them, how many, what they said - there was no way to know. But they were there. They would _see._ Ianto stared blankly at the glass, caught by the terrifyingly perfect combination of privacy and exposure. If he went where Jack lay like bait in a trap, anyone could see him and Ianto would never know who. The desire the thought brought nearly made Ianto come in his jeans.

"Ianto," Jack's gravelly voice, familiar from nights and days of skin and sweat, tugged at Ianto as if it were a string tied to his cock. He arched his hips, even the friction of his own jeans making Ianto gasp and shudder. He kicked his shoes off and tugged frantically at his trousers, the key clattering ignored to the floor. Jack's clothes were piled on a rickety chair and Ianto added his, then took one last terrified breath, aching all over with lust, and padded naked over to where Jack lay on the floor. His reflection followed - washed the same red as everything else in the room - and Ianto strained not to look at it, not to think about it, or what was beyond it. Those two girls, at least, and Ianto shivered, struggling not to cup a sheltering hand over his hard cock like an embarrassed schoolboy.

He knelt beside Jack and bent to kiss him, twisting his hand in his hair and groaning at the refuge of Jack's mouth. The swell of Jack's pec was warm under his hand, Ianto's thumb brushed his nipple and he felt Jack's response in the sound caught in their mouths and the way he arched for more. Ianto pinched his nipple sharply and leaned away. In the red light, Jack's eyes were a strange violet and the shadow Ianto cast across his body was pitch black.

"Suck my cock," he said fiercely, fist tight in Jack's hair, even though he made no move to get away, looking up at Ianto, mouth dark and wet. A sharp clench of lust jolted Ianto and he gripped his erection, hips twitching. "Damn you, I've been chasing you all over this place and now I'm _naked_ in a bloody fishbowl with half of Cardiff watching me. Suck my cock."

Jack laughed softly and rolled a bit to his side, cock sliding across his lower belly, leaving a faint gleaming streak of pre-come. His mouth was open and it was _there_ and Ianto arched forward and pushed in hissing his pleasure as his cock slid into the darkness of Jack's mouth. The purse of his lips around him made Ianto groan.

Jack's tongue pushed up under his head, even as he sucked him in deeper - a trick Ianto had never been able to mimic - and the ripple of Jack's palate on the tip of his cock, with the rushing pleasure of wetness and heat and Jack taking him deeper left Ianto groaning and rolling his hips to meet the kiss of Jack's mouth.

Jack was beautiful, sprawled at Ianto's knees, eyes closed with one hand down between his legs idly working his cock, thigh crooked up to give himself room. The draw of his mouth pulled at Ianto everywhere until he couldn't breathe, until his body pulsed and swayed in time to the suck of Jack's mouth and the flick of his tongue across his head made Ianto shiver all over. He rocked, back and forth, combing his hand through Jack's hair and swore under his breath while spit gathered at the corners of Jack's mouth and the wet sucking sounds filled the little room.

The weight of attention pressed at Ianto like another touch; all those imagined eyes out there, watching them beyond the glass, above the crowded dance floor, anywhere, everywhere. Everything he felt, every moan and shudder was on display and Ianto's balls clenched, cock twitching hard in Jack's mouth at the thought. Groaning, eyes wild - a glimpse of his own abandoned reflection shocked him with lust and all Ianto could do was pull his cock free of Jack's mouth, fist himself in short, rapid strokes and come. He spilled across Jack's chest and belly, gasping as the pulse of his climax went on and on wrenching a groan that sounded agonized from him. His come was a ridiculous candy pink in the red light and Jack just huffed in pleasure; debauched, glorious, maddening.

Panting, stunned with pleasure, Ianto clung to his softening cock as Jack swept fingers through the come on his belly. He slid his hand down behind his balls, arching and panting as he fucked himself on them. He was jerking off, fast and hard, eyes wide and fixed on Ianto's face. He came that way, under Ianto's gaze, under the audience around them, his eyes only on Ianto. As if he were the only thing in the world. The sight of Jack's climax, come spilling between his fingers, wrenched another cry and shudder from Ianto as if he were coming again.

Their little room echoed with their noisy breathing and the dull thump of the music outside as the two of them struggled to catch their breath. Ianto's knees ached; a wool greatcoat wasn't enough padding for a hard wooden floor. He burned all over in self-conscious awareness of what he'd done ... what they'd done. Worst of all, he'd have to get up and dress and walk out that door to whatever awaited them.

"I'm going to retcon all of Cardiff," Ianto muttered. Jack laughed, sat up and kissed him hard, still spattered with come and breathing heavily.

"Well, we'd get that first time feeling all over again if you did that," he said. "Could be kinda fun."

Ianto glared, though he was quite sure that - sweaty and limp with post-orgasmic pleasure - it had less of an impact than he wished. "I've been horribly corrupted by a space alien, I need sympathy. And wet wipes."

Jack chuckled. "Wet wipes are by the chair. The rest, you're on your own."

Ianto struggled to his feet and fumbled for the wet wipes - individually wrapped 'after sex wet wipes'. "Mango scented?" he muttered in disbelief but tore several open to hand off to Jack. He kept his back firmly to the glass, flushed painfully with embarrassment as he swiped himself off and climbed quickly into his clothes. It had been easier to jerk off than to clean up afterwards.

Ianto checked his zipper twice before he'd allow Jack to open the door. When the stepped outside, the crowd broke into applause. "Oh, god," Ianto said faintly. Jack gave a sweeping, delighted bow.


End file.
